


Morning Of

by kindlystrawberry



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Zelos Wilder, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff, Hangover, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Road Trips, Sort Of, Zelos has an inner monologue and it won't shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindlystrawberry/pseuds/kindlystrawberry
Summary: Zelos wakes up with a hangover, a best friend who's finally confessed to her crush, and a guy on top of him. Overall, this is an average morning for him.
Relationships: Colette Brunel/Sheena Fujibayashi, Lloyd Irving/Zelos Wilder
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Morning Of

**Author's Note:**

> How many times will I write the waking up to cuddles prompt in a variety of different ways? Only time will tell.

Zelos wakes up with the mother of all headaches. This is punctuated by the groan he lets out when he opens his eyes and the sunlight pouring in from the window that nearly blinds him. Clearly they forgot to close the curtains before going to bed last night. 

_ “Shut up,”  _ is muttered from somewhere in the room. 

Ah. Zelos would recognize that voice anywhere, and it’s no-less grouchy than it normally would be even though Sheena says it in her sleep.

Zelos tilts his head enough to look at the hotel bed to his left. Somewhere between the mound of blankets he can just manage to see two figures cuddled up around each other (so gently that it’s sickeningly sweet) and two heads of hair.

There’s the wild dark black of Sheena’s, even more unruly now that it’s out of its usual ponytail. It looks like it’s covering the majority of Colette’s face, and Zelos feels for her; after countless sleepovers of growing up together, Zelos knows what it’s like to wake up choking under a face-full of Sheena hair. At least Colette, for her part, seems to be sleeping through it just fine. 

The morning sunlight casts the hotel’s white bedsheets in an annoyingly bright, washed-out yellow, making it almost blend in with the short crop of blonde hair that falls around what Zelos can see of Colette’s shoulders.

Wait.

Short hair?

Zelos drops his head back against his pillow with another groan, though this time it’s not just because of the dizzying headache he gets just from moving. Memories from last night come back to him in a haze: the four of them getting drunk; Colette doing Sheena’s makeup as the latter girl pretended she wasn’t blushing up a storm; them dancing at some bar; a pair of warm, callused hands on Zelos’ hips; all of them stumbling back to the hotel room well-and-truly  _ sloshed;  _ and finally, Colette demanding that she wouldn’t let anyone sleep until someone cuts her hair. 

Zelos runs a hand (he’s only currently got one of them free) over his face. Of course they’d done it. Actually, come to think of it, Zelos is pretty sure he was the one who cut it. God, he hopes he did a good job. He hopes Colette doesn’t regret it. Sheena and Lloyd would kill him.

Wait. 

_ Lloyd. _

The more he wakes up the more Zelos has a sinking feeling in his chest that he’s missing the obvious elephant in the room. Wanting to avoid figuring that out for as long as he can, he takes stock again. Colette and Sheena are cuddling— like,  _ actually  _ cuddling, Colette’s head pressed against Sheena’s chest and Sheena’s arms wound protectively around Colette’s shoulders. 

Sheena’s plan to confess must have gone well. He can’t see their faces from here, but he thinks they look happy.

_ That’s good, _ Zelos thinks, and with no one else awake he lets a small, genuine smile spread on his lips. 

Then he takes the moment to look at their surroundings. The cramped, two-bed hotel room that they checked themselves into yesterday afternoon looks even blander in the morning light. There are vaguely patterned beige walls, a beige carpet, and tacky art hanging on the wall where a TV would probably be, if they had paid for a more expensive room. 

Actually, he’s pretty sure he  _ has  _ stayed in this hotel before, on one of the many random business trips his parents had dragged him along on when he was a child. They had definitely stayed in the expensive rooms then. 

His family would probably faint if they saw  _ any  _ of what he and his friends had done on this end-of-the-semester, let’s-help-my-best-friend-confess-to-her-crush-so-she-can-finally-stop-pining road trip.

And finally, of course, there’s whatever the fuck is going on in  _ his  _ bed. 

With a sigh and a throb of his head as Zelos runs his free hand over his face again, he directs his attention to what he’s been trying his best to ignore.

The weight pinning him down is none other than Lloyd— Lloyd, the guy who Zelos has been reassuring a suspicious Sheena for months that he’d never had nor get feelings for, Lloyd, who he’d seen properly drunk for the first time last night, Lloyd, who had snaked his arms around Zelos and danced to the way-too-loud music with that bright, shining grin of his. 

Shit.

Lloyd starts to stir from where he lies on top of Zelos. In a panic, Zelos wonder if he could pretend to still be drunk. That probably wouldn’t work.

Lloyd is quiet when he stops shifting, and for a few, blissful moments Zelos thinks he might still be asleep. Maybe he can crawl out of bed. 

That won’t work either.

He has one free arm and can move his head side to side, but that’s about it. Lloyd’s head is pillowed on Zelos’ chest, and his torso’s on top of Zelos’ other arm. One of his hands is resting nervously close to the waistband of Zelos’ boxers, warm against Zelos’ hip where his shirt rides up. That gives Zelos more memories of last night; a bass-heavy song, a crowded dance floor, Zelos not only dragging Lloyd by the arm to come dance with him but also shooting him a winning smile and a “hunny,” to convince him, and then… 

He remembers in the low, flashing lighting thinking  _ ‘god Lloyd’s lips look so dry, why doesn’t this boy own chapstick,’  _ but to his extreme frustration he can’t remember anything past that.

Damn. That last line of shots had been a mistake.

God, what has he done? He doesn’t like Lloyd. Zelos is an adult; he doesn’t ‘like’ anyone, he hasn’t since he was a middle schooler sending candy grams to the prettiest girl he could pick out in his math class, since he first kissed a boy under the bleachers during P.E. and thought,  _ oh.  _

No, Zelos doesn’t ‘like’ people anymore, not the way that Sheena sends lovey-dovey puppy eyes Colette’s way whenever she’s in the room. Zelos is attracted to people, and that’s it. He’s not even boyfriend material— he hasn’t had more than a casual fling since he got to college, and now he’s almost out of it. 

And, well, he’s not attracted to Lloyd either. He likes to tease Lloyd, to watch him get flustered, to act like he knows way more about the world even though Lloyd is only a year younger than him. Stupid athletic Lloyd and his optimism, his dumb bright smile, his stubborn insistence on helping anyone and everyone he can. 

And then there are the hours they’ve spent in the library together, Zelos helping him with some of his gen-ed classes and Lloyd making comments about how surprised he is that Zelos is so smart. Zelos would flash him a grin and say something like “What, I can’t have brains  _ and  _ beauty?” and try to ignore how Lloyd would grin and blush, try to ignore the way his own stomach fluttered like he was some damn lovesick teenager. He always told himself those tutoring sessions were annoying, just a pain in his ass task he was doing for a friend, because if Lloyd failed then Colette would be sad, and if Colette was sad Sheena would never let him hear the end of it. 

Zelos— who has to be self-destructive at all times, apparently— lets out a groan at his own thoughts, and  _ that  _ wakes Lloyd up for sure.

The brunette stirs again, and his bare chest (really? Does Lloyd  _ have  _ to sleep shirtless?) presses firmly against Zelos’ as he takes in a deep breath. 

Zelos stays… perfectly still. 

Lloyd moves a hand to rub at his face, rolls his shoulders and kneck with some worryingly loud _ pops,  _ and then sits up on his arms just enough to bring him face-to-face with Zelos. Those warm brown eyes blink blearily for a few moments, and his usually gelled-up hair is plastered to the front and sides of his head. 

Zelos is, momentarily, overwhelmingly reminded of a puppy, and he has to keep his perfectly neutral expression from turning into a cringe at himself.

“Hi—” Lloyd says, sounding so incredibly happy and so  _ loud  _ that he cuts himself off with a nervous glance towards the girls’ beds. “Oops,” he says, now whispering. “Sorry.”

When punctuated snoring (Sheena  _ never  _ snores so it has to be Colette) fills the room again, Lloyd turns back to Zelos and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. That makes his hair stand  _ more  _ on end. Zelos doesn’t even realize he’s moving until his hand is already soothing down the tufts, and Lloyd leans into the touch.

Shit. What is he doing?

Ah. He realizes he hasn’t actually said anything yet. Okay. He has to sound perfectly suave and casual. That’s fine, this is the thing Zelos is best at.

“Hey, hun.”

Shit.

Lloyd grins again, and Zelos wonders if all that smiling makes his cheeks hurt.

The brunette leans in to press a kiss to Zelos’ lips. He must feel Zelos instinctively tense because before their lips even touch Lloyd is already pulling back. His gaze is more serious now, searching Zelos’ eyes with his brows furrowed up, just slightly. Man, Lloyd can’t hide an expression to save his life, huh? His face is an open book. Zelos, deep down, can’t help but actually feel jealous. He’s gotten so good at hiding his emotions that he’s not even sure if he feels them anymore.

He focuses on the sensory. Lloyd on top of him, radiating a solid warmth. The blanket pooled around where their feet are still tangled. His OWN hand, which had gone from fixing Lloyd’s hair to resting on his tanned, lean shoulder. 

“You… okay?” Lloyd asks.

“Of course. Never better— ah, except for my hangover. It’s been forever since I’ve had one of these.” Actually… he takes a moment to inspect Lloyd. “Wait, do you  _ not _ have one?”

Lloyd chuckles softly, sounding slightly nervous again. 

“Uh, nope!” He whispers. “Guess not. Don’t think I’ve ever had one before.”

Of course he hasn’t. 

“Why am I not surprised?”

A moment of silence stretches, and Lloyd’s eyes are still on him. Theur faces are so close together that Zelos can feel the long strands of red hair next to his face stir against the pillow because of Lloyd’s breathing.

Lloyd bites his lip, looking almost uncharacteristically nervous, before he whispers, “Do you… remember last night?”

Ah. There it is.

He  _ does  _ remember, now. The dancing, the shots, slinging his arm around Lloyd’s shoulder, Lloyd picking him up in a fireman carry and carrying him down the street as they all made their way back to the hotel. He remembers Sheena saying now was her chance, and taking Colette back to the room early. He remembers asking Lloyd if he wanted to go back too, and the brunette shyly saying he wanted to check out the arcade in the lobby. He remembers Lloyd beating him at  _ Ms. Pac-Man  _ and doing a ridiculously endearing,  _ dorky  _ victory dance, and thinking  _ ‘God, I’m so far gone.’  _ The thought had shocked him. Lloyd was still dancing. Then Zelos… pinned him against the machine, bracketed his arms around Lloyd’s body and pressed a slow, deep, teasing kiss against Lloyd’s lips.

Lloyd had stopped dancing. Lloyd had gone stiff in his arms. Zelos moved to pull away with hundreds of excuses already popping into his head like an arsenal against those honest eyes, those chapped lips, and then Lloyd leaned forward eagerly to kiss him back. 

He doesn’t exactly remember  _ everything _ else (since they really had drank a _ lot),  _ but he does remember a haze of fumbling to the elevator, holding Lloyd’s face in his hands as they never once stopped kissing, Lloyd burying his hands in Zelos’ hair. Then they got to the room, and the girls were still awake. He had cut Colette’s hair, the four of them tipsily got into their two beds, and Zelos and Lloyd had curled around each other. 

Then he remembers pressing quiet, teasing kisses to Lloyd’s neck as the brunette tried to lean over to plug his phone in, hands trembling. Zelos had made an embarrassingly whiny noise when Lloyd got up one last time to pee, before settling back down against Zelos’ chest and feeling so,  _ so  _ warm, like a human space heater. 

The last thing he remembers is having the best damn sleep of his life.

Lloyd is still looking at Zelos, who for his part has to stop himself from running his hand over his face for the third time that morning. 

Zelos remembers.  _ But,  _ he could pretend not to. Lloyd would probably be slightly embarrassed, but they could both just chalk it up to the alcohol and go about the rest of their friendship, the rest of their  _ lives,  _ and pretend that everything was fine. That would be the logical choice. Lloyd is too sweet, too full of hope, and Zelos is bad at commitment. Lloyd deserves better, someone who could actually stick around and take him on sweet dates like he deserves. Someone who will regularly text him back, and show up to all of his games. Someone  _ not  _ like Zelos.

He could pretend, easily. It’s something he’s done his whole life— to his parents, his teachers, himself. To Lloyd.

Those kind brown eyes stare at him, still searching, still slightly furrowed, and Zelos remembers what it was like to kiss those lips. To wish he had bought Lloyd chapstick for his birthday earlier this year. 

To his own surprise, when Zelos opens his mouth it isn’t to speak. He leans forward and presses an impulsive kiss against Lloyd’s lips, hoping Lloyd can’t feel him trembling. Just before Lloyd can melt into the kiss Zelos pulls back.

There’s a slightly shocked look on Lloyd’s expressive face.

A warm grin tugs at Zelos’ lips, and he probably looks sickeningly fond but he can’t help it.

“Yeah, Lloyd,” he says, softly, not because he’s scared of waking up the girls, but because he just can’t muster up the courage to say it any louder. He’s always been a bit of a coward. “I remember everything.”

Lloyd’s gaze goes so soft, so fucking  _ fond  _ that Zelos can’t actually stand to look at him for too long. Instead, he flops his head back against the pillow and directs his gaze at the ceiling.

“Well, at least—” he says, forcing his tone to be light and joking, “most of it. Still not sure what happened between that second and third cocojito, or when you took your shirt off last night. Not that I’m complaining.”

Lloyd’s laugh is a bit too loud, a bit too giddy, and its a breath of fresh air even as it makes Zelos’ hangover headache throb again. The brunette falls forward, pressing his head against Zelos’ neck. 

“I must’ve done it while passed out. I hate sleeping with my shirt on.”

“Good to know.”

As if he could sense the shit-eating grin that curls, lazy and slow, on Zelos’ lips, Lloyd presses a kiss against Zelos’ neck in a teasing echo of what he had done last night— Zelos gasps at the sudden feeling, and is a bit too late in trying to stifle that noise against his hand.

When Sheena wakes up with a groan and Colette with confused mumbling, Lloyd buries his head against Zelos as he fails to fight off a laugh. And Zelos… can’t help it. He laughs too.


End file.
